


My move, your move

by kazarina



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, They are very cute and sweet, sex in public space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24997291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazarina/pseuds/kazarina
Summary: Laurent likes games, and Damen has learnt a game or two in their years together.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 97





	My move, your move

Damen enters the library, his eyes automatically falling on the familiar profile behind the reception counter. There is no room for anyone else in his vision as he observes Laurent go about his job, admiring Laurent’s elegant posture and the way his hands gesture in sparse precise motions. Even after so long, Laurent’s casual beauty never fails to arrest his attention. His pace slows as he thinks back to the first time that he met Laurent, his tongue sharp and cutting as he picked apart an off-hand comment that Damen had made, the exact topic about which was entirely forgotten by now. It was like being dismantled efficiently from the inside in a way that left you wide-eyed and horrified, asking yourself exactly when had you mis-stepped and inadvertently offended the object of your attentions. And then Laurent had smiled, honey-glazed and bright, and said, “Oh, you’re adorable.” Damen was lost from that moment. As he reassessed his conversation with Laurent, reframed it in his mind as more teasing than cutting, comprehension began to seep in. He felt his gaze turning warm and possessive as a vague sense of hopefulness flared within him. His tongue moved on its own accord then, saying the words, “So are you.” 

Time had only drawn them closer to each other, surprising Damen each time it occurred to him that there was someone here in the world who was Damen’s heart and soul, and he had somehow, lucked out and _found_ him. They fit together like two puzzle pieces that were always destined to be. Every time he didn’t think it could get any better, something would happen, and he would be knocked askew and left amazed that he could feel so much for one person. 

The thing that Damen loved the most was how they had become more and more in sync with each other over the years. Just little things, as Laurent was indomitably his own person and Damen never wanted that to change. He thinks of that as he watches Laurent from the library entrance, and within a few seconds, Laurent _looks_ back, his lips curving that infinitesimally more even though to anyone else he would appear to be paying whole-hearted attention to the customer in front of his desk. It’s enough to make Damen’s heart brim with warm happiness.

As the customer finishes whatever business he had with Laurent, he gathers up his books with one arm and picks up his briefcase in the other. He makes his way to the exit, but then twists around to wave goodbye again to Laurent just at an importune moment, narrowly avoiding colliding into Damen.

“Oh excuse me!” The customer says with much chagrin when he realises he had nearly walked into Damen. 

“All good,” Damen reassures him, still distracted by the blinding smile that Laurent had shot him from afar. Damen makes his way over, close enough to see the chunky computer screen fade to black just as Laurent glances up at him. Mischief twinkles in Laurent’s eyes.

”Oh look, I’ve exchanged one giant for another.” Laurent teases. “That was George you nearly walked into. Like you luckily, he’s a little hard to miss.” 

Damen laughs at Laurent’s ridiculousness, only now recalling that the customer he had walked past was almost as tall as himself. He didn’t bother to correct Laurent that it was in fact George that nearly walked into him. Instead, he counters simply with, “You like giants.” 

Damen says this in a way that would usually have Laurent complain of his arrogance. But he decides not to give Laurent any opportunities for a clever retort, and interrupts his next words by leaning over the counter and dropping a hot and heavy kiss into Laurent’s mouth. Laurent tastes like coffee, smells like a mixture of expensive cologne and what Damen has come to know as uniquely Laurent’s scent. It is this combination that spins Damen’s mind into a heady whirl, at once regretful that they are not yet back in the privacy of their home. Bracing both palms on Laurent’s face, he savours the casual intimacy of the moment and delights at Laurent’s small sound of satisfaction. Kissing has always been one of Laurent’s favourite things, and Damen especially loves how responsive Laurent is to such a simple act.

“Admit it, you like giants.” Damen presses the issue, his lips still hovering near Laurent’s chin after they had to break apart to take a breath. He sneaks in another quick kiss at the corner of Laurent’s lips, feeling more than seeing him smile. His fine golden hair had been tousled by Damen, which makes him look a little less than composed. Laurent gives him a look before he pushes off the side of the reception counter and steps back. 

“The problem with giants is that they get in your way.” He remarks, and then turns and begins stacking books on a trolley beside him. 

“I’m not in your way,” Damen says, a foolish smile forming on his face, “But this goddamn counter is in mine.” He makes his way around as Laurent flicks a glance back at him, tracking his movement.

“You’re distracting and a menace.” 

There's no chance for Damen to reply as Laurent stalks past him to go and lock the library's double doors, and flip the sign so that it now reads “CLOSED”. Just to get a reaction out of Laurent, Damen leans himself against the trolley that Laurent had left behind, physically getting in his way this time. Sure enough, it gets him a haughty stare and narrowed eyes when Laurent returns. 

Damen grins, satisfied, and steps away. It’s part of what they do. Damen, from the first moment had never been able to stop acting like a teenage idiot in love around Laurent. But these days, Damen is wont to think that Laurent enjoys their silly games, and even more so enjoys pretending to be annoyed at Damen.

There is a companionable silence as Damen leans against the counter and watches Laurent fill his trolley with books. He spins a pen up into the air and catches it expertly as he asks, “Are you finishing soon, or shall I go and occupy myself with a book?” 

Laurent doesn’t look up when he replies cryptically, “Neither.”

This is a frequent routine for them. On Fridays, Damen tends to finish work early and usually is in time to pick up Laurent from the library and drive them home. Sometimes they make a stop at a nice restaurant for an impromptu date night, other times, one or both of them are too exhausted to do anything more than shove down a quick takeaway dinner and collapse into bed. But this is both usual and unusual for them, as Laurent is usually ready to leave by the time Damen arrives. If he needs to work late, he usually texts in advance so that Damen doesn’t have to wait for him. Laurent is thoughtful like that. This circumstance of Damen standing around, watching Laurent do his librarian-y things has Damen’s interest piqued. He wonders if it has been a particularly busy day for Laurent, and yet Laurent didn’t seem especially tired. Then again, Laurent’s signs of exhaustion are notoriously difficult to spot, even for Damen. 

Laurent wheels the filled trolley into one of the rooms while Damen trails along behind him. The books that pass through Laurent’s hands are thick-covered with lettering on their spines as golden as Laurent himself is. Exquisite, intricate, and a treasure to behold. Laurent handles them as if they are each a specimen of some delicate flower as he places them one by one into an empty display cabinet. This is one of the more extravagant rooms in the library, housing what looks to Damen like a set of specially commissioned Latin classics. It’s been a while since he’s toured the library.

“People actually read this?” Damen comments as he glances about the room. Firstly, the books look too lovely to be even held, and secondly surely there can’t be that many Latin speakers or readers to warrant such a large collection. 

Laurent just gives him a baleful stare. “I do,” he says as Damen does his best to look contrite. “My library has one of the best collections in the city. Of course people do.” Damen grins. _My_ library, not just the public library or the city library. 

Damen continues to watch Laurent handle his beloved books, noticing the way his palms contact fully on the covers and how with selected books, his fingers would ghost lightly across the embossed title. Once, Damen had joked that Laurent loved his books more than he loved Damen, and Laurent had carefully shut the book he had been holding, splayed his palm on Damen’s chest before dragging it down, and down in a slow, exaggerated way. “Find me something to like about you then.” He had said. Thinking of that makes Damen feel warm all over, and he tries immediately to extinguish that line of thought before he embarrasses himself. 

“Was it busy today?” He inquires, thinking that they might chat about mundane things.

“So – so,” Laurent hums. 

When Laurent finishes shelving his books, he leans back against the display cabinets, cocks his head at Damen and gazes at him through his lashes. It is a look that makes Damen drop what he's doing and sit up, _if_ he had been doing something else. But he has been watching Laurent the whole time, so he sees it all: The pause as he locks up the cabinet signalling some sort of contemplation, and then the single smooth motion where he drapes himself back against the glass – with purpose – so much of what Laurent does is no accident – and gazes at Damen with this look, this very likely to be calculated look. Even knowing this, Damen suddenly can’t find a single coherent thought, aware only that his body is beginning to anticipate something here in this very public library.

Laurent speaks, “I’ve been wondering if some of us are more proportional than others. Do you think _George_ is proportional everywhere?" He says this entirely unapologetically, continuing to gaze at Damen. A challenge. 

Damen knows him well enough to know that this is just another of Laurent’s games, that he is not actually considering it seriously. But at the same time, Damen can’t help the stir of possessiveness that swirls and roils in his belly, irrationally annoyed that someone else might look upon Laurent and somehow _dare_ to make a move on him, if that is even what that dastardly George has been doing. 

His brows furrow as his feet brings him close to Laurent, who gazes at him through his long lashes. Before he can think about consequences, he unbuttons the topmost button on Laurent's shirt. 

All he gets for that is a raised eyebrow and a curious expression. Since there is no objection, Damen puts his hands on Laurent’s shirt and yanks the rest of the shirt open. The buttons fly off with a pop and land silently on the carpet as Laurent’s eyes widen in surprise. A gleeful satisfaction worms its way through Damen, thrilled that he’s managed to surprise Laurent at all, as so rare are the times he has managed to. Laurent stays exactly where he is as he quickly smooths his reaction into one where only a bored curiosity remains. _Well? What’s next?_

Damen hopes he can continue his winning streak of surprising Laurent, so he just does the next thing his mind comes up with. He tugs both sides of the long sleeve shirt off Laurent’s shoulders and then ties the ends behind his back. This way, Laurent’s elbows are caught in the sleeves and bound to his sides. 

“Is this you punishing me?” Laurent’s tone is inquisitive as he gazes assessingly at Damen. 

“No,” Damen says, and the look he gives Laurent is pointed, _as if I would ever do anything you didn’t want._

Laurent’s mind is no doubt fast turning its wheels, trying to figure Damen out. All that is for naught, as Damen never really plans what he is about to do, preferring to let the spur of the moment and his instincts guide him. Laurent goes along with it all as if there is nothing out of the ordinary about this, of being half undressed in the city library, albeit a quiet inner room. 

Damen gives himself a moment to admire Laurent’s bare chest, to drink in the illicit sight. He thinks he quite likes the look of Laurent’s elbows bound behind him. If Laurent were amenable, perhaps they should explore this some other time. By now, Laurent’s body is so familiar to him that he can map it in his mind without looking. He wants so badly to touch those invitingly pink nipples, which he knows are sensitive, but decides to hang back deliberately instead. To keep playing the game. Under his prolonged gaze, Laurent’s breathing becomes slightly less even, and his nipples grow puckered with the first stirrings of arousal. 

When Damen deems that he has made Laurent wait long enough, he lifts his gaze to meet Laurent’s eyes, and says, “It is me convincing you.” He leans in and claims Laurent’s mouth for his own, his tongue pressing in insistently. And Laurent opens for it, kissing him back with a fierceness that is his equal, and more. Normally, Laurent would wrap his arms around Damen’s back keeping him rooted in place, but not this time with his movement bound. Damen let his palms roam across Laurent’s flawless skin now, deliberately rubbing one of his nipples. When he pinches lightly there, Laurent gasps directly into Damen’s mouth, and then in retaliation nips at Damen’s bottom lip. It sends a dizzying rush of blood all the way to his crotch, his half hard cock becoming fully erect now. 

Damen noses along Laurent’s chin as his palms explore the hard plains of Laurent’s muscles, each jut of bone and each smooth dip. He presses open-mouthed kisses anywhere he feels like it, luxuriating in the feel of Laurent’s skin. Drunk on the soft sounds that escape from Laurent, he sucks a bruise into Laurent’s neck, and then his shoulder, and then just below his collarbone. Then finally, he puts his mouth where Laurent has been waiting, licking back and forth across the small bud of a nipple. Laurent’s eyes are half-closed. His head tilts back, and he arches a little more into Damen’s ready mouth. Damen’s hand is purposefully rubbing Laurent’s other nipple, stimulating it into a hard bruised tip. Damen can hear his breaths becoming more and more unsteady, and it fuels him to go on, determined to drag out this seduction. 

As his mouth works its way around Laurent’s front, Damen’s palms trace paths along Laurent’s back until they reach his hands, restrained as they are. He runs his fingertips over the inside of Laurent’s palm, teasing him with light touches, but Laurent latches on and grips his fingers, applying just enough pressure to convey some sense of urgency.

It is all unambiguously clear to Damen though, who knows Laurent’s responses by heart, all the ones he tries to stifle and bite back. It is clear as day for Damen, who is immeasurably thrilled that he can reduce a man as controlled and stoic as Laurent into making these little noises of pleasure. Always he chases the thought of more with Laurent. That is how he finds his fingers undoing Laurent’s pants. A pull and a yank bares Laurent’s lower half to him, and Damen never tires of this sight, of looking upon the irrefutable proof that Laurent wants him as much as he wants Laurent. Sometimes, it is the waiting that heightens the pleasure, both for him and for Laurent. But especially for Laurent, who likes to play games and draw things out. Well, Damen has learnt a game or two in their years together. He lets himself admire Laurent’s naked beauty, his long legs of fair unblemished skin, the curve of his slender hips, and his beautifully shaped cock in proportion to its owner. He takes in all the little details, the way the light and shadows play upon Laurent’s body, including the shine of the little bead forming at the tip of where he desires the most to touch. As he watches, Laurent exhales slowly, a light tremor seeming to pass through his body. 

The air between them hangs full of promises. The silence is loud. Laurent draws a deep regulating breath, and then leans back. When he opens his eyes, his expression is back to one of composure, as if he is anything but on display for Damen, who is still fully clothed. He is in the more vulnerable position, but the look he is giving Damen says otherwise. Apart from the slight blush in his cheeks, it’s the same look Laurent wears all the time, a mixture of boredom and amusement, until Damen is actually fucking all the way into him and frenzied need transforms him into an animal. It is those moments that Laurent will come apart, his self-control all but shattered, and Damen’s name slips out as a whisper, as a plea, honest and earnest.

Damen smiles confidently at the thought. He’s going to do exactly that. He could go on his knees and take Laurent apart, a bit by a bit. And slowly, oh so slowly. And then Laurent would tangle his fingers into his hair, so desperate for his release that he wouldn’t realise that his grip is deliciously painful to Damen. He is just about to do that when Laurent takes a few steps forward, his pants carelessly pooled around his ankles so all he can do is shuffle his feet. He stops a few inches apart from Damen and when he speaks, it is in clear dulcet tones, his eyes sparkling with delighted satisfaction.

“The oil is in your pocket.”

Of course it breaks Damen’s composure and his grin falters as he looks down in his own pockets and sees on the left the little protruding shape. He doesn’t know when Laurent slipped it in – could be in the last 5 minutes or it could be this morning, as they each made ready for their respective jobs per usual. Had he just gone through a whole day at work without realising he was carrying around oil in his pocket the whole time? Damen tries to think whether Laurent ever stood close enough to him when he first enters the library, but it is difficult to think with his mind in a haze. He could definitely believe it if it was this morning. Laurent is impossible like that, his planning leagues ahead of anyone else. 

It only takes a few seconds more before his mind finally makes the leap to what it means, what it means for both of them in this moment, and his expression morphs into one where arousal and exasperation are warring. Laurent notes it all with a supreme smile. If anything, the smile grows a little wider as he watches the various emotions flit pass Damen’s face. 

“Well,” Damen says, and struggles with a fondness too big for his heart, “Maybe you should take it out if you’re the one who put it there.” And thinks of Laurent’s hand groping in his pocket, teasingly slow in its wandering. 

“I can’t,” Laurent says, very much amused now, “You tied up my hands.”

Damen laughs out loud and he can’t hold back anymore. He brings his hands around to undo the rest of Laurent’s sleeves and free his elbows. Laurent puts a single heated hand on his chest and makes no further movement, but Damen feels his skin tingle all the way down to his toes. He is helpless to his desire to touch Laurent everywhere, to run his hands down to his hips until they encounter familiar curves, to tug Laurent closer, chest against chest with him. It’s not enough, he wants to feel Laurent all over at once, he wants to be inside of Laurent. They’re touching, kissing, and Damen presses his nose against Laurent’s neck and breathes in his scent. He can feel Laurent’s palms unashamedly sliding across his back under his shirt. He can feel Laurent’s naked arousal pressing insistently against his thigh. When Damen pulls back and pauses for a second to catch his breath, he groans out, “Fuck, Laurent…” His hands are rubbing into Laurent’s ass, feeling the smooth supple skin again and again. Laurent is doing the same to him, but the sensation is slightly dulled by Damen’s clothes. Still, each contact with Laurent sends a warm rush of heat straight to his loins. His own erection is straining against his pants as he presses it against Laurent’s body.

Damen repeats, “Fuck, you’re so hot like this.”

“Yes, that is the point of the oil.” Laurent looks up through his lashes. Happy. Laughing. Laughing at him. They both are, revelling in their closeness, in the joys of lovers that understand each other. The intimacy is heady, it’s in the small tender smile that is returned when Damen puts his palm on Laurent’s face, looks into Laurent’s eyes, and whispers “ _I love you, I love you so much_.” 

It’s not the first time he's turned Laurent’s games into something more than just fun and sex. He can’t help himself. Despite how long they’ve been together, there is no shortage of moments where he is awed by the intensity of his feelings for Laurent. He wants to declare his love over and over again, tell Laurent how much he means to him, how he’s never felt like this with anyone else, never even imagined it could be like this. And Laurent is always disarmed by it, blushing prettily and adverting his eyes. Sometimes he repeats the sentiment back to Damen, but sometimes he says, like now, “Thank you... for loving me...” with nothing but honesty in his eyes, and it does something to Damen’s chest, expands it and fills it up. He’s one of the select few people who get to experience Laurent's sweetness. These are the moments Damen feels the most connected, the most loved. There is an invisible thread connecting their hearts, tying them to one another. That’s the person he returns to, time and again, no matter what. When Damen looks in Laurent’s eyes, it’s like he’s seeing into Laurent’s soul, and he thinks Laurent can see into his too. All his wonder, joy, and tenderness reflected back at him.

“How are we doing this?” Damen says, surveying the room. Light from the diamond-shaped chandelier reflects off the multiple panels of glass that line the walls, responsibly protecting the treasures of the library. It makes Damen remember all at once where he is.

“You’ve locked the door right?” 

Laurent scoffs, “You might have thought to ask that before stripping me naked.” 

Laurent’s words have their desired effect as Damen’s cock throbs in anticipation. He glances from a large mahogany table in the center of the room to the twin armchairs behind him, trying to think through what would be the most practical way to do this.

For possibly nothing more than a love of challenging Damen, Laurent says, “Fucking me against the table, are you?”

Instead, Damen peers at his face with some concentration and says, “You would like that, would you?” Laurent’s silence is an answer itself, so he starts moving the chairs aside to make space.

When Damen next looks up, Laurent has freed himself of his pants, and is leaning against the table in a pose that is casually seductive. With the beautifully styled mahogany and glass-cased books as Laurent’s backdrop, he looks like some cheeky nymph from an antique painting. The way he is still wearing his polished shoes draws attention to his piquant nudity. Damen is utterly entranced by the sight. His lips fall apart without him realising it as his arousal multiplies further.

“Like what you see?” Laurent says. Caught off guard, Damen blinks and blushes. Laurent has always understood him well, but this – they’ve never really said it aloud, never clarified it before. Perhaps Laurent’s words are nothing more than a playful jab, but Damen thinks immediately that he knows – that Damen, still fully dressed, is incredibly turned on by the sight of Laurent, naked, hard, and waiting to be fucked. 

“Turn around.” Damen instructs, placing his hands on Laurent’s hips, and Laurent obediently lets himself be pushed belly against the smooth wooden edge. An idea comes to Damen, a recollection and a theory he would like to test out.

He lets one finger trail down the cleft of Laurent’s ass, hears Laurent take in a sharp breath, and then with both hands, spreads his cheeks apart. 

“You are very pink here.” Damen says, bending over and looking, as he rubs his thumb once over the rim. Laurent looks deliciously tight and he feels his cock respond as he plays over the image of prying Laurent’s hole open, stretching him so that he can fit himself in there. 

“You – you need to get on with it,” Laurent says as he cranes his neck around to look at Damen. 

“You look so hot like this, bent over and naked for me.” Damen murmurs, completely ignoring Laurent’s embarrassment, “Step a little wider I think.” He moves one hand to rest on the inside of Laurent’s thigh. Laurent exhales an audible breath as he shifts his feet wider apart. 

“There," Damen says, as if completing a masterpiece. "What a sight you are, all spread apart.” One of his hands is still pulling on Laurent's ass cheek, exposing the most intimate parts in between.

“You… you want to fuck me.” Laurent says breathlessly. 

“I want to look at you.” Damen corrects.

“Are you – planning on chatting with me like this all night?” 

“That depends on how much you like it.” Damen says, sliding one hand lightly around Laurent’s lower back, dropping to squeeze his ass once. "Do you like it when I say these things to you?" He asks. 

"Just... fuck me already!" Laurent says, a hitch in his breath. Damen reaches around to feel Laurent’s cock, sliding his fingers along the shaft until his thumb reaches the tip. Laurent is dripping there, his cock throbbing at Damen’s touch. Damen presses his thumb into the slit. 

“ _Oh... You’re... insufferable_.” Laurent gasps out.

“Mmm, you do like it.” Damen confirms to himself, pleased. 

Laurent had begun thrusting into Damen’s hand, unable to help himself from getting some relief from Damen’s teasing touches. 

“Don’t rush,” Damen says, even though he’s more turned on than ever and all he wants to do is bury himself into Laurent over and over. With his free hand, he gives a light tap right on the highest curve of Laurent’s ass. “Maybe I should make you ask me nicely.” He withdraws his other hand from Laurent’s cock, denying him the relief he had been chasing after. 

“ _Mmurngh_...” is the only strangled sound that Laurent makes as he exhales shakily. He somehow manages to sound indignant. Of course Damen never gets around to waiting for Laurent’s self control to crack, no matter how much he tries to be patient. Before long, he is dipping his fingers in the oil and pushing them into Laurent. 

“ _Oh... Damen_.” Laurent says, moaning softly. 

“Good?” Damen can’t help asking, even though he knows the answer.

“Don’t… _fish for compliments!_ ”

Just a little more, Damen tells himself, hotly anticipating the moment when he can fuck into Laurent like he has always done and feel that tightness surrounding him. With his free hand, he tugs on Laurent's elbow and brings his wrist behind. 

“I want to see your fingers in yourself.” 

Laurent moans as Damen guides one of Laurent's finger in alongside his. The angle is awkward, and he lets Damen manoeuvre him. Together, Damen guides both their fingers to stroke Laurent’s insides. 

"You're so hot like this, fingering yourself. God I want you so much." Damen whispers as he curls his fingers and is rewarded with a long moan. Laurent drops his forehead on his wrist momentarily and his voice is muffled as he whispers Damen's name. Damen continues the stroking, eventually releasing Laurent’s finger, replacing it with two more of his own. The added thickness draws a whimper from Laurent, who presses his forearm back on the table with a thud, tucking his head to his chest, and whispers again, “ _Damen_ …” 

Growing up, Damen has always been aware of his strength and build, knowing he would never have to struggle with certain things as other men might. But he has never felt powerful until he watches Laurent give himself over to Damen this way, surrendering his control completely. It is a boyish thrill running through him, as he thinks with awe that _he_ did this, _he_ is the only one who can do this to Laurent, and that Laurent _allowed_ him this. The implicit trust, the open vulnerability makes Damen want to rush to give Laurent everything he can. 

Finally, he allows himself to unbuckle his own belt and push his pants down, his motions careless and rough in his haste. Damen feels the cool air on his cock only for a brief moment before he enters Laurent with a loud groan, placing steadying hands on each side of Laurent's hips. One of Laurent's hands moves to grip tightly onto his fingers there as he gasps out, " _Oh... Damen…_ ” 

“ _Laurent,_ ” Damen says, trying to make his tongue form coherent words, “ _Sweetheart, you feel so good… so tight around me…_ ” Damen leans forward to press his lips on Laurent’s back, sinking himself in further. Laurent is a drug that Damen never wants to be rid from. It is this feeling that makes him feel the most alive, this and hearing Laurent whisper his name brokenly like that. No matter how many times he has been with Laurent, it is always relentlessly consuming, it always makes him lose his mind. 

Damen begins thrusting. His body sets a pace to chase his pleasure and Laurent’s pleasure. They both adjust to an angle that works, and Damen further experiments to find the spot that Laurent likes. This position isn’t one that they are overly familiar with, having only tried it a handful of times, but Damen knows he’s hit the right spot when Laurent produces a needy whimper, his hips sagging temporarily against Damen’s ready hands. Damen responds accordingly, repeating the motion over and over, pushing them both closer to the finishing line. 

It doesn’t take him long to come, having already spent a considerable amount of time before teasing both himself and Laurent. When Laurent shifts his stance and tightens suddenly, Damen succumbs entirely to the white blaze that overtakes him, all his senses entrapped by the singularly exquisite feeling. Clutching Laurent close with a grip that he had unconsciously tightened, he empties his spent inside of him, riding out the waves that crest over. When the pulsing ebbs, he raises his forehead from where he had rested against Laurent’s back and slides out. Mindful of Laurent’s need, he uses his strength to bring Laurent up and turn him around. He only allows himself a brief glance into Laurent’s flushed face, catching the raw expression there combined with his shaky exhalations through parted lips. Damen doesn’t waste any more time in kneeling down and taking Laurent all the way into his mouth, relaxing his throat so that Laurent can press himself in. Damen starts the motion, but it is Laurent that continues, his hips thrusting forward and fucking into Damen’s mouth. He comes with a cry, fingers gripping sinfully into Damen’s hair exactly the way Damen had imagined he would. For long moments, Laurent simply clutches him as his orgasm washes through his body. 

Later on, Damen is sitting in one of the large arm chairs of the room, sewing back the buttons of Laurent’s shirt as Laurent, perched sideways and shirtless on the armchair next to him swings his legs back and forth. 

“I’m hungry,” Laurent complains, “You could have just told me to take my shirt off, without scattering my buttons all over the floor.” 

Damen’s raises his head at once, wondering if he had misread Laurent in the heat of the moment, “I shouldn’t have?” He hadn’t really been thinking – that was his usual problem. Damen peers into Laurent’s face, trying to find clues, but his expression is carefully neutral. He realises it is entirely intentional at the same time as Laurent starts speaking. His words are slow, and all carefully chosen. 

“If you don’t keep sewing, we’ll be here all night.” 

A small smile starts to bloom from the corners of Laurent’s mouth which makes Damen want to jump up and press Laurent to himself in a kind of jubilation. Laurent’s remark wasn’t to hint at his distaste – quite the opposite – he was trying to tell Damen that he _liked_ it. It had been so long since he had learnt something new about Laurent. Damen’s face must have shown some of that excitement as Laurent delivers a hard nudge in the shoulder with his foot. The needle pricks against his palm. He grins away anyway. 

When Damen gets to the last button, Laurent’s patience finally gives out and he plucks the sewing out of Damen’s hands. Gingerly seating himself in Damen’s lap, he proceeds to do it himself, his long elegant fingers moving much more rapidly than Damen’s clumsy ones. It leaves Damen’s hands free to wrap around Laurent, to manoeuvre him around so that he could hug him close and rest his chin against Laurent’s bare shoulder. Something else comes to mind and he can’t help the giggle that rises out of him. Laurent says, “What?” 

“When did you put the oil in my pocket?” Damen says. 

This time, Laurent twists around bestowing a smile so full of mischievous glee that Damen is sure he’s falling in love again. 

“Wouldn’t _you_ like to know?” 

**Author's Note:**

> I am on [tumblr](https://kazarina-writings.tumblr.com/) now!


End file.
